


down beside your red firelight

by Biggus Slickus (crownlessliestheking)



Series: at the end of the day [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bickering, But only because Slick is always angry, Fantasizing, First Time, Intermission style, M/M, Mild Domesticity, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Polyamory, The Author's Self-Indulgence, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, brief discussions of trauma, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownlessliestheking/pseuds/Biggus%20Slickus
Summary: You got no fuckin' clue what Slick tells him, but he's still there when you make your way into the room proper, his hands resting light on the boss's shoulders. Slick's got one hand fisted in his shirt, the other on his hip.You say not to stop on your account, and you're rewarded with a roll of the boss's eyes and a very faint pink on Strider's cheeks.
Relationships: Diamonds Droog/Spades Slick, Diamonds Droog/Spades Slick/Dirk Strider, Dirk Strider/Spades Slick
Series: at the end of the day [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821157
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	down beside your red firelight

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I actually sat down and wrote any kind of porn/erotica. I forgot how hard I always procrastinate it even when it was my idea in the first place. I literally wrote everything BUT the actual sex, and then had to go back and do a sort of horny NSFW fill in the blanks. Ace smut writer problems ftw.

♤◇♤◇♤◇♤◇♤

You pause when you walk into Slick's living room and the first thing you see is Strider's profile just off the back of the couch. Boss's head is visible too now that you look lower, and Strider being in Slick's lap is so fuckin' ridiculous you have to stare for a moment. 

His eyes dart to you, and then back to the boss. Then to you again.

Never thought you'd see any deer in the headlights shit on Strider's face but ain't you glad to be proved wrong?

He says he can go.

You tell him not to. You're still watching him. You didn't know his eyes were that color. It's a good fuckin' color, on a pure aesthetic level. He and the boss have got nice eyes; good thing you ain't the kind of guy to be bothered by yours being fuckin' normal dark brown. But you see why he's got those goddamn shades on all the time- they're real expressive in a way like yours and the boss's ain't, like he never really learned how to hide shit there. You can tell he's startled, unsure, and you gotta admit you like catching him off guard. You can tell he ain't looking at you head on so much as he's looking at your tie head on. You file that away real nice as you take your shoes off properly.

He looks at Slick for a long moment.

You got no fuckin' clue what Slick tells him, but he's still there when you make your way into the room proper, his hands resting light on the boss's shoulders. Slick got one hand fisted in his shirt, the other on his hip. 

You say not to stop on your account, and you're rewarded with a roll of the boss's eyes and a very faint pink on Strider's cheeks. You ask Slick if he’s embarrassed or some shit and he says absolutely fucking not. You ask Strider if he’s embarrassed or some shit and he asks you if he looks like someone capable of feeling shame.

Well. Yeah, he is, you grant, but not about this. You know the look of a man who’s plan just got interrupted ‘cause you’ve worn it often enough yourself, but you figure that this interruption might be the good kind. Least, it might be for you. You ain’t seen the two of ‘em together before, not like this. You know he hasn’t seen you and the boss together either. You also know you like the look of it right now and the idea of it in general. This just saves you the trouble of a proposition and then somehow manhandling these two into agreeing when you know damn well they'd be interested but either overthinking it (Strider) or fuckin' unwilling to admit it (Slick). You get a better deal this way.

You lean back against the wall to watch, though. Air in the room’s different, they both look a little on edge. In the interest of fairness, they’re both always on fuckin’ edge, but this time you’re the one causing it and you ain’t too interested in being apologetic about it. All you gotta do is wait them out this time. And you're damn good at waiting.

It doesn't take too long, though. Boss is impatient, more impulsive than Strider by half- or at least more willing to cave to impulse when he's gotta. He hauls him back into the kiss, but it's slower than before. You ain't too sure why or if it's meant to reassure or who the fuck it'd be reassuring, but you ain't gonna complain either. Not when you have a pretty decent view of a flush creeping across Slick's face, how he pushes further and further into it 'cause he's always been a demanding fucker that way. You get to watch Strider give as good as he gets, pressing closer in return even if the angle’s gotta be pure hell on his neck.

He doesn't take his time usually and you got no problem with that. He pushes and escalates and yeah, it moves fast, but the boss ain't ever gonna stop being intense that way just like you ain't ever gonna stop getting caught up in it until you stop breathing. It's just Slick. Always has been. 

(Strider, you know less about that way. Almost goddamn nothing, in fact. You figure he needs a gentler hand more than he'd ever admit and you ain't gonna pretend that's something you've got experience in giving. You're still dealing with the fact that you want to know what he likes, whether or not you can give it to him is a bridge you'll burn when you get to it. 

You don't want the bridge to burn, though that's easier than crossing it or building it or whatever. Fuck it, you ain't one for metaphors. You want this to work and work well. Never mind that that it's been going well so far anyway but all three of you are the type to wait for the other shoe to drop and you don't want this to be it falling.)

There's the murmur of Slick's voice in a question and that draws your attention again, as much as the sudden press of his demon dog's bulk against your leg. Strider's hand slides back into the boss's hair and Slick's metal hand reaches for his ass to squeeze, and you're too far away to hear anything but you do see the rhythm of the kiss stutter. You want to watch more. You figure you can do that from a more comfortable spot.

Boys let’s move it to the bedroom, you tell them. Slick ain’t moving, just mouthing along the sharp line of Strider's jaw. Bec’s in the room, you tell him. The mutt in question barks to agree since he’s smarter than most folks you know.

Right in front of my damn dog, he finally hisses at Strider, giving him a shove, and Strider says he refuses to believe Slick hasn’t seen that meme since he keeps quoting it. You keep your mouth shut on that one- you know the boss asked Deuce about it and left more confused than pissy about whatever the fuck kind of explanation he got. That’s usual when talking to Clubs, though.

Strider does move off him, and he’s more subtle than the boss about adjusting himself, but Slick ain’t ever been one for subtlety if it wasn’t a dead requirement for the job and even then he’d bitch about it. You don’t pretend not to see, and when the boss sneers at you in a way that tells you to knock it the fuck off, you drag your eyes over to Strider instead. That only makes him sneer harder.

Strider ain't looking at you and you'd be offended if he had much of a chance to. Slick's already dragging him on to the bedroom so all you see is a slightly amused look on his face. You pick his shades up from the coffee table along with the boss's hat and bring both of them with you as you follow them to Slick's room. 

You settle yourself in one of the chairs at his chess table, put the hat and shades down out of the way. You only give the board a look to make sure you haven’t jostled it; you ain’t one for chess and all the damn mental acrobatics for it, you figure that’s too much effort to put into a game. Slick and Strider both play, though not always with each other- the boss plays against himself and Strider usually does it online against someone you only know as ‘angry chess guy’ ‘cause that’s what Slick calls him. No further details, but you figure those matches are more insult than anything else. Long as neither of them’re asking you to sit at this tiny-ass table for a game, you’re content to not have further details.

Boss asks what you're doing all the way over there and you tell him you’re making yourself comfortable and ain’t nothing wrong with that. Slick accepts that but Strider doesn't because only one of them knows these damn chairs are uncomfortable but you ain't gonna bother dragging the better one out of the piano room. You tell Slick you'll be alright over here and he calls you a fuckin' freak for it, while Strider says he doesn't mind indulging your voyeuristic tendencies, and Slick hasn't offered any real protest anyway. Real protest being a knife somewhere real uncomfortable. You just reiterate that you're fine where you are, voyeurism aside.

Slick asks how come he doesn't mind seeing as he's jumpy as hell about being watched, and Strider shrugs and says it's just you, and that you're within view so it isn't exactly a problem or pinging any alarms. It's cameras that he doesn't much like, he says, and you figure that's fair enough. Famous brother, he'd learn to hate the paps. Or at least avoid them, though you're decently damn sure that based on the lack of shitty snapshots of him around in tabloids when you did some digging (ain't nothing weird about doing your job), his brother and him have worked the avoidance shit out perfect.

He says he doesn't know if he can really fuck with the pictures of Snowman looking at him though, and Slick tells him to stop being a fuckin' baby already. Strider looks at him for a moment and says Slick is the one being a fucking baby, but fine, before grabbing one of the knives on his dresser quick as anything and landing it right in the eye of one of the pictures. Huh. You file that one away for later, too.

You ain't a fan of Snowman either, but you ain't sure that has much to do with finding what he just did pretty goddamn attractive. Least you're less obvious about it than the boss, though you figure he's pissy someone else fucked one of 'em pictures up. Privately, you agree with Strider- it's unnerving and obsessive but if it keeps the boss functioning the operation running decently smooth, that's less work for you so you ain't gonna question it. 

(Strider's only met her the once as far as you can tell from what the boss said complaining about it afterwards (and you can pinpoint right then hearing a shake in his voice as when you knew there was something going on, like Strider walking out the house all bed-tousled wasn’t damn good proof), and Strider maintains that once was more than fucking enough. You don't know what went down, and you ain't going to ask seeing as you're attached to surviving.

But you do think he'd hate her even if he hadn't ever met her, not like Slick does- ain't nobody who can hate like Slick-, and not like you do- that is, with a healthy fuckin' dose of real grudging respect. You think it'd be for what she did to the boss and you can understand that fine, you just don't want him to make Slick talk about it. Some shit is better left unsaid, least until payback's been had.)

Boss is hissing something about fuckin' property damage you little shit, and don't do it again else the knife'll be in your eye, y'hear, but Strider gets yanked into another kiss before he can respond. Never mind that he's fuckin' trying to talk through it anyhow, which you'd probably have found annoying as fuck a few months back but now you just know that's how he is. Stubborn bastard. And it ain't directed your way, so you can appreciate it some. 

You got no idea what he’s saying, and you doubt Slick does either, but you figure he’s just stubborn enough to say it again later if it’s important. You figure it ain’t important at all, and he's got better things to do anyway. Better things being the boss, who's working a hand into his hair again, messing it up proper and kissing him hard enough to stave off any complaints. You'll admit it's a good strategy. Might even be one you try yourself.

You know Strider's hair is soft enough when it ain't styled, but that doesn't stop you from wanting to get your fingers in there too. You press your palm against the smooth fabric of your slacks instead for now, and keep watching as it gets heated. It ain't that you don't want to touch or get involved, but you've wondered how they work together since whatever unspoken thing they've got started, and you're gonna take the chance to find out now.

(You'd been tempted once to ask Slick who was better but he'd have laughed in your face and you weren't gonna deal with that so you didn't. Now it ain’t so much about who’s better as it is about how you want to see for yourself what they get up to and how it’s different from what you do. You know it is, and it ain’t a crime to want to know where you’d fit into it, not that you’ve spoken about it so direct.)

For now, you watch Strider’s hand slide under Slick’s shirt to push it up, wrinkling the fabric. Not like it ain’t already wrinkled from earlier, but it’s the principle of the thing. You tell the boss to take his goddamn shirt off with some care, and he ignores you like always as he yanks the damn thing off his body. Miracle he doesn't rip the fabric, but Slick's harder on his clothes than the rest of you. Least the view's good, you gotta concede. Even as his pants get dropped onto the floor in a crumpled heap. You mind that more than Strider's doing the same thing, 'cause his are jeans worn too soft to crease up and fuckin' stained to hell at this point. Floor's the second best place for that shit, garbage's the first. 

He's still got his shirt on, but his hands are curled over the hem of it. Strider looks at you, then at Slick, and you think he looks kinda unsure. You don't know what to do with that; he ain't the indecisive type. Slick says is he keeping it on or what and he says nah he needs to get over this shit at some point since it's old news. You want to know what shit he needs to get over. You don't ask. Slick just says eh, like that's any kinda answer, but it's answer enough either way 'cause he's peeling his shirt off like he's trying to prove a goddamn point. Maybe he is. You kinda want to see how he'd fare getting outta that shit with his shades on but you keep that to yourself; you figure you'll get that answered another day.

You ain't ever seen him shirtless before. Granted, you ain't ever seen him _naked_ before so going without a shirt seems less a step than being without pants to you but Strider's more bothered about it and you don't get why until your eyes slide up to his neck and- linger. Well. Suddenly, a whole fuckin' lot about him slots into place. That's a nasty scar like someone tried to cut his throat and fucked it up real bad. Old too, and you know you're not mistaken about that. 

It raises a lot more questions than it answers. You ain't gonna ask; you didn't ask about this, but you ain't an idiot, either. You know this is him telling you. And you know it's costin' a whole goddamn lot for him too; he's tense as fuck about it. Doesn't occur to you for another moment that Slick's staring too, and with the kinda look on his face that makes you think someone's gonna get done for right now, but it's only there for a second. If you didn't know the boss, and if you were the kinda guy to imagine shit, you'd think you imagined it. 

Slick tells him to fuckin' relax instead and of course it takes you up to a count of six for him to actually listen. You figure it's a bigger thing for him than it is for either you or the boss; both of you've seen your share of shit worse than what he's got. 

Boss says good boy and even ruffles his hair, and Strider asks if he's trying to be ironic right now, and Slick says he's never fuckin' ironic, Jesus. But he presses a kiss right to the scar, gentler than you usually see him, and you wonder if Strider knows how fuckin' lucky he is about that. You think he does, 'cause he freezes for another second but then some more tension leaves his shoulders and he looks startled by the whole thing, although not displeased. You don't know what to think about that one.

You don't think he'd let you do that, but you don't think you'd know how to want to. 

Slick asks what happened there that's got him all twisted up worse than the one on his chest, and Strider just shrugs some and says the circumstances were real different around it and it's a way shittier reminder. Slick just says alright and guides him into another kiss. Aggressive, 'cause he's an impatient asshole even if he doesn't like showing it.

You got no idea what's on his chest and you can't really see it from here, not with the boss blocking the view, but as Strider turns and you see something on his back, a small vertical scar, distinct from a couple other faded ones you see 'cause it ain't a slash or cut of any kind, and you think that you were right on the money about this being an explanation for him in itself but it still raises more fuckin' questions than anything else, and he ain't answering you so you ain’t gonna ask. 

(He's answering the boss and that's fuckin' fine, of course. Ain't easy saying no to Slick in any way, though this might be the nicest you've seen him ask anything. Not your business wondering if he'd tell you if you asked; you're already fuckin' here listening so you don't need to ask. Moot point.)

The kiss breaks and Strider asks where the lube is, and instead of answering Slick just grabs it and a condom from the nightstand, once he’s moved the knives in there outta the way. Strider snags the bottle out of his hand to get his fingers wet, though he lets them warm first. Ain’t even gonna let me do it, Slick asks, and Strider says nah, he’s got it this time. Slick grumbles something you don’t quite catch, but you figure is vitriolic and aimed at having to wait, since Strider tells him to chill out, he’ll be efficient. Efficient, Slick repeats. ‘Cause that’s the best part of fuckin’. Efficiency.

You decide not to say that you appreciate that; you don’t see why anyone should drag shit out before getting to the good part. Dragging the good part out is another thing entirely if you got the time and energy for it.

True to his word, Strider’s pressing a finger into himself quick, and you can’t see it properly from here so you know more from his reaction than anything else. And it’s real subtle, just a shift of his hips, a slow exhale. He tells Slick that efficiency’s important when the other party’s fucking impatient. The boss says he ain’t impatient he’s just busy, and yeah, you can’t deny that Spades Slick has a lot to do, but patient’s not really a word anyone’d use to describe him if they weren’t talkin’ about him waiting for a plan to go smoothly. And even then, you ain’t sure. Spades can wait when he’s gotta, he’s just never happy about it.

You point out that he’s not busy now which is as close as you’re gonna get to calling him out at the moment, and he says he’s gonna get busy, so fuck off. Strider says the point of efficiency is also that he does get busy, so he should appreciate it more. Boss tells Strider not to tell him what to fuckin’ appreciate, and they’re off again. You got no idea how it is Strider’s managing this while stretching himself open, but you figure it’s gonna trail off real soon, judging by the red in his cheeks and how his breathing’s heavier.

Slick figures the same thing, you think, since he’s shifted to nudge Strider’s legs open wider. Gives him a better view- you, not so much. You’re alright seeing them both in profile for now, though. Slick’s metal hand is resting right against Strider’s thigh, thumb rubbing against it.

Add another, he says. The way Strider’s eyes close for a moment tells you that he’s listened. Two now, you think, and you fuckin’ wish you were on the bed to get a closer look at this. It’s gotta be something if it’s holding Slick’s attention enough that he’s quiet for now, and if it’s taking so much of Strider’s focus.

Gonna go up to three, Strider tells him, and you can hear it in his voice too. It’s lower, a little bit breathier, warmer than the usual flat monotone you hear him use. You like this better. You want to know what he sounds like when Slick’s inside him, and if he’ll sound the same with you inside him.

Slick asks what happened to efficiency, and Strider says that three’s better than two and he needs to be able to walk tomorrow, so. Boss says that Strider better let him know the day he won’t need to do a lotta walking, and Strider asks if that’s a promise. He sounds real fuckin’ pleased about that, and you watch his mouth curve up into a half-smirk as he looks up at Slick. Slick says he doesn’t make promises just threats, and Strider tells him it’s not a threat if it’s a good time.

His voice hitches on the last word and he bites down hard on his lower lip to stifle a noise. Slick shifts closer, hand sliding further up his thigh. Do it again, he orders. Strider watches him for a moment, but he’s still biting at his lip, and this time his back arches off the bed a little so you know he’s listened.

You want to be on the bed too; Slick ain’t doing much of anything right now and you know he’s not the kinda man to deal with that well, and you figure you could occupy him just fine as Strider preps himself. You don’t move, though. This is about watching, and no one’s extended you any kinda invitation. Might be deliberate, at this point. Doesn’t stop you from thinking about walking over there and kissing Spades long and filthy right where Strider can see, putting on a good show for him. Doesn’t stop you from wishing it was your fingers in him, stretching him wide and getting him ready for the boss. You’d get him after, and there’s sweet fuck all about sloppy seconds that oughta be appealing that way, but it is.

(Maybe it’s that you’re used to sharing Slick but this ain’t the same kinda sharing; he’d have knifed anyone who even looked at Snowman sideways back when they were together, and work is work when it comes down to it. You’re just as dedicated there. But this is the kinda sharing where you’re part of it, and you figure that’s what makes the difference. Whether or not it’s got much to do with how fuckin’ hot it’d be to fuck Strider right after Slick’s done with him, when he’s wet and loose still and work him right back up again until he can’t take any more, is another thing. You press your hand a little firmer against yourself just at the thought.)

‘S good, Strider murmurs, and ain’t he a pretty mess as he eases his fingers out of himself. Wipes them on his thigh too, unceremonious, but you figure that’s better than the sheets. Efficiency, see, he drawls out, and Slick sneers at him and says he’ll show him efficiency. You’re not sure what kinda retort that is, and Strider just cocks an eyebrow up at the boss, looking too smug for all that he’s been doing. He says efficiency is sexy and all but only when there’s a time crunch. He pauses and then asks if there _is_ a deadline and they need to hurry it up.

You tell him there’s nothing planned for the rest of tonight, and Slick gives a curt nod in agreement. He’s got the condom on now, and it gleams wet with lube as he moves closer. Strider’s legs spread wider, obliging. Alright, he says. To efficiency, whether it’s needed or not. He sounds amused. He’s not gonna for long, you wager.

Slick’s brow is furrowed as he pushes in, and you lean forward some to see better, you can’t help it. You thought it'd be harder to watch this and do nothing but you're pretty damn preoccupied right now to think too hard about what's going on. You'd rather focus on the way his breathing’s coming faster, the faint flush spreading across his cheeks. He’s gripping Strider’s hips tight, but he ain’t moving yet. They make a good pair like this, you’ll admit. All the sharp edges pared down to something that fits together easier. Not by much, mind you.

Strider says he can move. His voice is shakier than you’ve ever heard it. Slick nods, and that’s it- he starts to move. Shallow little rocks of his hips at first, just enough that you can hear both their breaths catch with each one. You want to tell them to go faster, because you want to see it when that control slips. You don’t, because you can wait, and you know it’s gonna.

(And maybe you see the appeal now; you know you like it when Slick’s with you and you get to pull down those walls and get him on your terms for once, get him a little more vulnerable as he shows his hand, and the hand is that he fuckin’ wants you just as bad as you want him. With Strider, you figure it’s more about seeing him react than getting on equal footing; Slick’s unresponsive in a different way, but most of the time you can tell what he’s about. You don’t want Strider vulnerable, per se, but getting him to let go, especially if this is what he looks like when he does? Yeah, you get that.)

Neither of them is particularly loud, even when Slick starts to speed up. He ain’t the type to take his time for too long no matter what, and that’s worked fine for you. Works fine for Strider too, from what you can see; he’s flushed almost all the way down to his chest, and you notice that his shoulders are dotted with the same freckles as his face. You ain’t particularly surprised that he likes it rough, but you still think it’d be good to take your time with him one day. Knowing what he likes with Slick ain’t the same as knowing what he’d like with you even if it’s giving you some damn good ideas.

Spades pushes in hard and deep each time, and the bed’s real sturdy else it’d be creaking. You don’t know whose position you wanna be in right now so you’re content to watch even if it’s getting real hard to ignore how turned on you are by it. Strider’s back arches, his head tips back and the whole line of his throat is bare and begging for a hand around it. You half-expect the boss to provide one, and fuck if the thought of his metal hand right around all that vulnerable skin ain’t hot, but he doesn’t. You know it ain’t gonna happen, not with how skittish Strider is about it, but a man can dream. Slick’s teeth are bared too, and his fingers digging into Strider’s hips, and you watch his thighs tense and his ass flex with each thrust, the way the lean muscle in his back shifts under his skin.

You don’t know what he does to cause it but Strider gasps out and his fingers curl tight in the sheets, and the boss smiles wide and mean, and does it again, and again. Strider’s just as hard as you are, his cock wet at the head and dripping onto his stomach. He’s not looking right at Slick but at some spot over his shoulder, and it makes you wonder some if he’d be better if he was blindfolded, but you don’t think he’d let you, so you probably won’t bring it up. You sure as hell wouldn’t let him do the same to you- you ain’t even sure you’d let Slick do it, and you trust him more than anyone else.

Besides. You figure you might want to see his eyes during, make him look at you if you can so he knows it’s you taking him right to pieces. You don’t particularly care if that makes you a greedy bastard, wanting that after just seeing ‘em once, but they’re a hell of a lot more honest than the rest of him.

And he looks over at you and that seals the deal on the blindfold question. He’s way too goddamn lucid for someone getting their brains fucked out, and you can fuckin' tell he's planning something. Always got those gears turning, him and Slick. Neither of 'em know how to relax, let alone what the word even means. 

His eyes linger where you're just palming yourself lazily even though you're so hard it almost fuckin' hurts. Your hips just push up into your hand, real subtle, but you know he sees it. You think you like that he's watching; you know he fuckin' loves that you are. His head’s tilted to the side, and you watch Slick’s eyes linger on his bare neck and you know he wants to get his teeth in there, mark him up good to match bites on his shoulders.

You think maybe next time you're not gonna just sit and watch. You think if you could get Slick to just sit and watch you fuck Strider it'd be good- or the other way around if you ever get around to it. You'd need to tie him up to get him to stay and you've got to figure out how to even float the idea by him, but you like it. You're pretty sure Strider'd agree, too, so maybe it ain't more trouble than it's worth. Especially if you got someone else to split the trouble with.

You don't think you'd have any of the same trouble if Strider was gonna watch you two; he'd listen alright, and you know he can be just as patient as you so you wouldn't need to tie him up, but you wanna see him in ropes too. You don't know that he'd let either of you- it’d be the smart thing to do, but you doubt it’s got much to do with common sense when it comes down to it. Be more likely than the blindfold, too. You think that’s maybe a conversation to have later, but that ain’t gonna stop you from filing it away for your own personal use.

The boss hitches one of his legs up higher and he’s nearly fuckin’ bent in half, he’s gonna be sore as all hell tomorrow, but you ain’t gonna feel bad about that. You didn’t know he was all that flexible either, but hell if you’re not pleasantly surprised to find out. You watch Slick slowly lower himself and tension seep into Strider’s body for just a moment before their lips meet in a kiss.

Bein’ real good, Slick says against his mouth, so quiet you gotta strain to hear it, and Strider asks him if he's trying to poke at a set of daddy issues that don't exist, but his voice is too breathy for him to be as unaffected as he wants to pretend, and the boss rolls his eyes. You file that away for later. You wonder if with enough praise he'd stop fuckin' thinking so hard for once, slide right into that syrup sweet space where he's just in the moment and lost in pleasure. You think you could probably find out. 

(You wonder if he knows just how fuckin’ hard praise of any kind from the boss is to come by, you wonder why you don’t resent him getting it and you not, but then again, it’s real hard to resent him anything when you like watching Slick fuck him so much. He’s earning it, at least. That much you’ve gotta concede. You want to make him earn it from you, too.)

Quit talkin’ ‘til you learn how to take a fuckin’ compliment, Slick says, and you don’t know if Strider can hear the strain in his voice but you can, and you know it means he’s close. Apparently he meant what he said about talking, because his metal fingers press right into Strider’s mouth, and those lips part willingly enough for them. The angle ain’t great, but you see a flash of pink tongue against gunmetal black, and with his mouth open that way, you can hear all the noises he was trying to muffle earlier. You know the boss likes that- always wants the other person coming more undone than he is, but you ain’t complaining now that it’s adding to the show.

You were right about Spades being close, ‘cause he’s moving his hand away from Strider’s mouth and down to jerk him off, hard and fast. Strider tugs him in for another needy kiss, a messy, open-mouthed thing that you didn’t have him down for liking under any circumstances that ain’t the heat of the moment. You don’t know who comes first; you can’t fuckin’ see it properly from here, but Strider moans right into Slick’s mouth and Slick stops moving, and they’re not kissing anymore so much as breathing against each other’s mouths. There’s a whole lot of tension just gone from both their bodies, and you wish you could’ve seen it up close. Next time, you tell yourself.

The boss is moving soon after and Strider lets him go; he pulls out and gets the condom off, and then looks at you. He’s messy and a bit sticky but you wager Strider’s got it worse. You figure you should offer to get something to clean up, excuse yourself since they’re done. You ain’t particularly disappointed, it was a hell of a thing to be able to see, you’re gonna be thinking about it for a long time.

You don’t get to do any of that. Slick turns to you and tells you to c'mere, and you ain't ever been the type to deny him unless it's work-related and he's being beyond fuckin' unreasonable so you go there. He's upright and everything and he gets a hand in your shirt to pull you into a kiss right away, bossy as always. Less of an edge to it this time, but you figure that's 'cause he's already gotten off. You're the only one who hasn’t yet, and it'd bother you more if you weren’t real invested in watching earlier. 

You’re just as insistent about pressing up against him. He slides a hand down your front to work your belt open, impatient and a little clumsy because of it. You reach down to help him before he fucks anything up, and it goes somewhat easier that way. You break the kiss when it comes to getting your pants off proper, ‘cause you sure don’t trust Spades to do it right, not with his contempt for his clothes. And he owns that shit- fuck knows what he’d do to yours.

But there’s another set of hands, slim-fingered, deftly undoing your button and fly and easing your slacks off. Strider’s been so quiet you almost forgot he was there, and he smirks up at you as he pulls the pants down your legs, your underwear with them. His nails drag along your thighs as he does and you know that’s deliberate. You tell him to fold them, and you make sure and watch as he does, neat, and puts them on the chair. Your shirt’s a lost cause already, with Slick having rucked it halfway up your torso, but you figure you’re lucky he knows better than to rip it off you.

Boss tells you that you’re so fuckin’ fussy about this shit and you say there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look put together. He says that now ain’t exactly a time t’be put together especially not when you were about to cream your pants just watching. You say you’d never do that to a perfectly good pair of pants, and you almost don’t notice Strider settling down between your legs until he’s already there, sprawled out on his stomach.

That ain’t something you’d been expecting. From the look on the boss’s face, it ain’t something he was expecting either, but in a good way. You tell him you’ve never seen a man so damn happy to watch someone else get blown, and he half-snarls at you to shut up before he kisses you again. It’s more aggressive this time, his tongue pushing right into your mouth, your teeth clacking together for a second before you shift up for a better angle. He gets a hand in your hair and pulls to hold you right in place, and you gotta admit your favorite thing about kissing Slick is how he does it, like he’s trying to chase out any other thoughts from your head. You’ve got all his attention trained right on you, right where you want it.

The light touches to your thighs aren’t much of a distraction, either- you know they’re there, and you know it’s Strider exploring or some shit, or touching just ‘cause he can. You figure he doesn’t _want_ to distract right now and you’re fine with that. But as soon as the kiss breaks for air, you and Spades breathing just against each other for a moment, you feel Strider’s teeth sink right into your inner thigh, in a bite you know’s gonna leave a mark. You’re keyed up enough that it just makes your breath catch and your cock twitch, and you feel his lips curve against your skin, satisfied.

Slick’s head dips lower so his teeth can drag against your jaw, and you let out a harsh breath against his hair. Strider’s busy leaving wet kisses and inching up higher and higher. You didn’t know he was a fuckin’ tease. You should’ve figured he was.

You ask Strider if he's ever gonna fuckin get around to it 'cause he's staring at your cock like he's doing some goddamn window shopping, and he rests his chin on your thigh and gets a hand around you and gives a slow stroke as he says he's just looking, man. He's got a decent sense of aesthetics- or at least he knows a good dick on a hot dude when he sees one. Four out of five hats, he says solemnly. You let your head knock against Slick’s headboard. What the fuck do hats have to do with it, you say.

His hand moves again, his mouth is hot against your inner thigh when he bites down. You think it's mirroring the mark he left on the other one, he's fuckin' obsessive that way. You feel more than hear him say it's a solid system of rating, and that y'all like hats anyway. He'd give you five but Slick might stab him.

Slick says he'll stab him if he doesn't stop being fuckin' insufferable for once. You gotta agree there, even as Strider says being fucking insufferable is one of his best qualities, thanks. You tell him to get on with it already. He asks you what happened to all that patience, and you tell him you've been waiting long enough at this point and he should quit being an enormous tease.

He hums, and stops touching you. You don't make any kinda frustrated noise 'cause that ain't something you do, but the boss is laughing 'cause that's the kinda asshole he is and it ain't happening to him. 

Thing is, I wanna tease you, Strider says, before you can tell him to get back to it or else. He says he's going to take his time here 'cause he's been thinking about how he wants to do this too, and then his hands are on your hips and pressing them right into the mattress almost bruising tight 'cause he wouldn't keep you down otherwise, and it'd still be easy to haul him off, grab a handful of his hair and yank his head up and introduce it to your fist, but. 

You don't want to.

He knows you don't want to. Smug bastard.

You settle one hand in his hair instead, and it’s soft near the roots where the gel doesn’t all reach, and pull. Just so as he knows to get the fuck on with it. He ignores it and bites down on your thigh again, and you hiss out a breath because fuck that one’s gonna leave a mark and you ain’t gonna examine why it is you like that so much. He’s not as mean as Spades can be about it sometimes, doesn’t really get his teeth in there good, and follows it up with the hot, wet press of his tongue.

Your fingers tighten in his hair. You can’t move your hips up and you bite hard at the inside of your cheek to keep fuckin’ quiet. Slick’s a weight against your back, but he ain’t offering any help on the noise front, just getting at your neck again and dragging his nails down hard against your sides to make you shudder. His breath’s hot against your ear when he tells you to quit tryna be quiet, Droog, lemme hear you.

He knows you ain’t gonna deny him anything when it comes down to it, least of all this, and when Strider finally gets his mouth on your cock, you moan open and shameless.

Y'know he used to tease me about how stupid hot he thought you were, Slick says abruptly, and you barely even register it. You ain't the kinda guy to get flustered by a couple of second-hand sweet words but Strider's looking almost petulantly up at the boss so it's gotta be true.

He lets your dick slide out of his mouth with a soft pop so as he can answer, and you nearly whine in frustration. Goddammit, you say to Slick. To both of them. It goes ignored. Strider says listen bro there's nothing wrong with appreciating a gorgeous guy in a good suit, especially if he's competent as fuck. He says Slick you were completely ridiculous about him and refusing to acknowledge it of course there'd be teasing. Boss says well maybe it was none of Strider's damn business how gorgeous you were or what he wasn't fuckin' acknowledging. He says gorgeous like it's the filthiest goddamn expletive around. It makes your cock twitch anyway.

Strider says it's his business now and for the record he loves seeing you like this, and he looks you dead in the eye this time as his tongue swipes right over the sensitive skin right at the head and you're going to remember that for a long fuckin' time. He says this is better than anything he could've thought of and you think he's pushing your buttons to see what sticks and damn if he ain't hitting some good ones right now. It's different coming from him than the boss, still as genuine but less loaded with history and you thought that'd make it awkward but it ain't, all it does is drive home that he thought about this and thought about you and yeah, you like that a lot.

You tell him it ain't gonna be his business any longer if he doesn't hurry it up. 

He asks if that was a threat and you tell him you don’t make threats, and Slick butts in to tell him to seriously, hurry the fuck up. His shades ain’t on so you get to see him roll his eyes at the both of you, and you’re pretty damn sure Slick’s giving him the finger just outside of your peripheral vision.

But- and you’d thank god if you believed in one- he does listen. Strider gets his mouth on you again and it’s nothing like the teasing shit from before, at least not on purpose. His lips wrap around the head of your cock and his cheeks hollow as he sucks and his hands are still on you so you can’t tilt your hips up and get him to take more, take it all. He bobs his head slow and easy, not like he’s trying to work you up, but more like he’s taking the time to savor it himself.

It's all wet heat and the clever press of his tongue, as he slides lower with each pass, little by little, and your fingers are gripping his hair tight enough that you know it’s gotta hurt, but fuck if he ain’t enjoying it. His eyes are lidded and dark, and the pink across his cheeks is goddamn obscene ‘cause you’re the one who put it there. You wonder if he sucks Slick off like this, you decide you’re gonna damn well see it one day and judge for yourself.

He only really stops when the head of your cock nudges against the back of his throat, and you’re real tempted to yank his hands off your hips and just shove him right down. Turns out you don’t need to, and whatever you were going to say to urge him along is gone, swallowed by a groan as he just _does_ it. Takes a real deep breath through his nose, and then slides down to the base, his lips stretched right around it as he just stays for a moment.

You think he’s having some trouble, but you couldn’t say how long it is he waits before he starts to move again- you’re pretty fuckin’ preoccupied at the moment, given how tight his throat is around your cock and how fuckin’ good it feels to be there. He pulls off slow, nearly all the way, and you tilt your head to catch Slick’s mouth in a kiss to muffle your whine. You think he’ll like hearing it against his lips, and you’re right, because he gets an arm around you, too.

Strider’s lips slide back down to seal tight around the base of your cock again once he’s caught his breath, and Spades swallows down your groan at that. His teeth catch your lower lip hard, and Strider hums when he feels you twitch in his mouth. You’re already keyed up from watching them earlier, you know you ain’t gonna last long- hell, either one of them could’ve just stroked you off and you still wouldn’t be lasting all that long, but you wanna enjoy it.

(You’re already thinking about next time, how you’re gonna get Strider on his hands and knees and you can have his mouth while the boss fucks him proper. That way you can see the both of them, and you get to set the pace, and he’ll damn well listen.)

You want to come, and arousal is coiled tight in your gut with each shift of his head. Slick’s saying something about how good you’re being, how fuckin’ _good_ you sound, Droog, and the boss’s approval of any kind is rare enough that it just adds fuel to the fire.

You don’t even get to warn Strider when you do, because Spades is kissing you again, demanding and of course you’re gonna acquiesce, what else would you do. You come right down Strider’s throat with a hand in his hair and Slick’s tongue in your mouth as he drinks in what’d otherwise be a moan of his name like it’s the finest goddamn wine. It’s fuckin’ decadent, is what it is, the pleasure crashing right over you and leaving you dizzy and breathless.

You know when the boss moves away because the breathlessness becomes a whole lot less literal, and you’re distantly aware of the mingled rasp of heavy breathing. You’re much more aware of Strider pulling off, almost torturous with the cool air hitting oversensitive skin. Your eyes are still half-closed, and it doesn’t matter again, because Slick’s pulling you into another kiss after barely a minute. Can’t even let a man rest, you murmur, and he asks since when have you ever needed to rest, but it’s Spades, so he doesn’t give you much of a chance to answer, not with his mouth on yours.

Just to get a bead on what he’s doing, you glance at Strider outta the corner of your eyes as you kiss Spades back, real lazy since you ain’t got much aggression left to go into it. You ain’t sure you’re meant to see the way he’s looking at you and Slick, face still flushed and his mouth red and wet and well-fucked thanks to you. You ain’t the kinda guy to lie, but this time, you figure it’s best to pretend like you didn’t notice the softness in his eyes. You close your own all the way, and when you open them properly a half-second later after the boss pulls away, his back’s to the both of you.

The bed shifts some under you and you see Strider yank his boxers back on before slipping out of the room entirely. Huh. Slick tells you to quit fuckin' frowning when you got what looked like a damn good blowjob, he'll be back. Fucksake Droog, he sighs out. You tell him you ain't frowning about that just that you're sticky and so is he and not only that but he went and got it on you and it's gonna dry all disgusting. So fuckin' what Slick asks, and you don't know why you're in love with him when he's such a fucking mess sometimes. You don't. So fuckin' what is that you don't want to be crusted over and disgusting, which you tell him is fairly goddamn obvious. 

And you aren't going to be, comes another voice, and the both of you startle. You reach for your gun on reflex but it's too far and Slick's already got a knife in his hand, and- goddammit. It's just Strider who raises an eyebrow at you all unimpressed. He's cleaned up some- answers where he'd gone at least.

The boss swears at him and it goes ignored, and you warn him you're gonna put a bell on him and he asks if he'll get a nice collar too, nyan, and you'd tell him to shut the fuck up with that if he wasn't doing you the favor of wiping you down with a damp cloth, cool against your skin. Part of your dignity protests it- you can do this shit yourself just fine, after all- but the rest of you accepts it easily. You're still lax from orgasm, pleasantly loose-limbed. Strider just hands the cloth over to Slick, 'cause he ain't ever lax from anything, and settles in next to you. He leaves some space but you figure that's alright since you're still wet along your stomach and thighs and you'd rather dry off before anyone got too close again.

Slick scrubs himself clean with brutal efficiency, emphasis on the brutal, and flings the cloth at Strider's face. It lands with a wet noise that's softer than both your disgusted looks, and he sighs before slinking away to deal with that again. You tell the boss not to be disgusting and if he does that to you then you'll have to beat the shit out of him. You're not getting any of that in your hair. Slick honest to fucking god cackles and says you sound like Strider. You can't even argue with that, so you just heave out a sigh. Ain't nothing wrong with wanting to be clean, you say. 

Definitely not, Strider agrees, and you and Slick damn near jump out of your skins again. Christ. You tell him he's gonna get that fucking bell just wait and see, and he just smirks as he settles onto the bed and says you'll need to catch him first. He's missed sneaking up on people, he says. Slick asks what the fuck is wrong with him that he likes sneaking up on people and then after a moment why the fuck would he decide to sneak up on the two of you. Both of these are valid, you think. Who in their right mind is gonna go around deliberately startling either Spades Slick or Diamonds Droog, let alone fucking both of them.

Strider just says it's fun to fuck with y'all sometimes, but he'll knock it off if it's that big a problem. Slick cusses under his breath for a second and then says not when he's got a gun. Strider says he isn't stupid and has he ever done it when Slick was armed with something more long range than a knife, and you think about that for a moment before realizing he's right. You tell him he's got no sense of self-preservation anyway, because the boss is about to call him stupid with examples and you ain't in the mood to deal with more bullshit. You don't know how either of 'em can just get up and to it when they don't gotta. Christ, you might be the only one who knows what a fuckin’ afterglow is and how to enjoy it.

They start bickering anyway despite your best efforts but the boss ain't too tense. Arguing's as easy for Slick as breathing but this ain't angry or bitter just casual. You tune them out and close your eyes; you'll be up if anything happens but you don't think it will. 

(You're right, as it happens. Only thing that goes down is Slick's fucking dog jumping onto the bed in the dead of night and waking all three of you up, though you and Strider lay right back down and leave Slick to deal with his oversized mutt 'cause that sure as hell ain't in your job description.

You wake up early the next morning to the boss's face in your shoulder and Strider as a vaguely recognizable mass of messy blonde hair and a lump in the blankets behind you when you crane your neck.

You decide it's too goddamn early to be awake anyway so you close your eyes again, and drift off easy as anything.) 


End file.
